


Samhain

by piggybackride (mssileas)



Series: Cryptid OT3 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cryptid OT3, F/F, Frankenhog, Freeform, Hayseed Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Junkenstein's Revenge, M/M, Mild Gore, Monster/Hayseed/Junkenstein, Necromancy, Polyamory, The Bride - Freeform, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssileas/pseuds/piggybackride
Summary: Tonight was, in fact, very much not about Junkenstein for a change.“Is she ready?” the Witch asked, a tremble of anticipation breaking her melodious voice.“As ready as she’s going to be."





	Samhain

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'm finally here contributing something to Halloween Season as well! This was inspired by Bambi's fantastic [comic](http://brundle-bambi.tumblr.com/post/178336767236/jeff-plz-bambi), done way before Sombra was revealed as the Bride. And since I'm metaphorically streaking through Blizzard's HQ while yelling "I do what I waaaant!" in my writing process, I've decided to ignore their decision and go with Moira.
> 
>  
> 
> Big, big Thank You to [Shanks](http://armatages.tumblr.com/post/179067373253/armatages-icons-10-one-character-headshot) for editing and whipping up that banner, I'm so blessed to have you on board for all those glorious illustrations Q__Q
> 
>    
> This is a continuation of the Cryptid OT3 Universe, I highly recommend checking out the previous parts before reading this. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

__

_~~~*~~~_  
Samhain, Samhain, let the ritual begin,  
We call upon our dear departed loved ones to come in  
The Veil between the worlds is thin  
Our hearts reach cross the sea of time  
To bring our loved ones in  
~~~*~~~ 

With autumn came the cold, the rain and the withering of all that had bloomed throughout the year. It left trees empty, naked skeletons desperately reaching through the fog as if trying to catch the last rays of a pale sun. 

But with autumn also came the celebration of _samhain_ \- it meant fires burning in the village, especially throughout the night. Fires that smelled of burned herbs and sacrifice, sending a pleasant chill through Hayseed’s body as he watched them from the balcony. Next to him, Hog sniffed audibly, trying to make sense of the new smells that were carried over to him. His usually cold, dark eyes were curious, and Hayseed giggled quietly when the huge beast leaned dangerously far over the stone balustrade. 

The time of the year the village folks feared the most - the season where the dead would be walking among them if they did not fend them off, or so they believed - was the time their own strength was at its peak. As much as Hayseed preferred the warmth of summer with its smells of fields overgrown with wildflowers and the colors of bountiful harvests in late September, he could not deny the tingly pleasure he could feel in his otherwise mostly numb body throughout this season. 

_Hallow’s Eve_ , the Doctor called it, as humans were wantto do these days. The pious townfolk instinctively backed away from the unfamiliar heathen word for it, _samhain_ , that reminded them too much of just how close they suddenly were to the realms of the dead. The otherworld was just a hair’s breadth away, and the people were left with no recollection of how to appease the spirits reaching out for them as they had known how to do decades or centuries ago. To Hayseed, it didn’t matter. He was always dead, and he was always here. But something about the spicy smokes and the fear filled chants fueled him, bringing him back a sense of home he never realized he was missing throughout spring and summer. He wondered if Hog felt the same. Judging by the Monster’s behavior, looking for something it couldn’t name, Hog clearly did feel _something_. It made Hayseed smile underneath his burlap. 

The Scarecrow could hear her arrival long before she became visible to the eye. The Witch of the Wilds returned to them every year for this occasion - Hayseed liked to think it had partly to do with the fact that it was essentially his birthday. Though this time, he knew there was another reason for it. Throughout the last weeks, the Doctor had once again all but locked himself in his lab, only sending out his creatures to fetch, well, _spare parts_. The most difficult task had proven to keep the Monster from snacking on their loot - apparently cooked meat was cause for tantrums, but dead meat was just fine for the big lug, even if it already had a certain ripeness to it. 

Hayseed knew that whatever new creature their Doctor was sewing up down in his dungeons, it wasn’t for himself. Junkenstein had started working on it right after a day long fight with the Witch - Hayseed did not know exactly what it had been about as he had only heard snippets and pieces. Whenever Junkenstein deemed himself alone though, Hayseed had heard his angry, muttered grumbling, figuring out for himself why the man had been arguing with the Witch. They had fought because of Hog, the Scarecrow knew, something about being ‘irresponsible’, ‘against nature’ and ‘unethical’, accusations the Doctor had only answered with shrill laughter. 

Hayseed hadn’t bothered to listen to their argument - he didn’t like the shouting, the excitement, the angry gestures and mean faces the Doctor and the Witch both pulled at each other. But they had reached a compromise, it seemed, and even though Junkenstein complained about having to set up his lab again to reconstruct yet another body, he did get invested in his work quickly again. He always did. The Doctor was a scientist and creator at heart, and whether for him or for someone else, he was obligated to his own insanely high standards. 

Hayseed had no idea what exactly it was he sewed up down there. Hog didn’t like going into the lab, avoiding the place of his traumatic pull back to life at all costs, and so Hayseed spent time with him roaming the castle and its grounds, distracting him from the Doctor’s gruesome work. But now that the Witch had come again, Hayseed figured they’d find out what she had requested of the man. 

The foggy air around them crackled with static energy, and then she suddenly appeared, perched atop a moss-covered gargoyle. Single strands of blond hair had loosened in her wind-swept braid, and she gently pushed her pointy hat back into place, smiling down at the two creatures awaiting her. “Good afternoon, Hayseed.” The Scarecrow waved happily with its single hand. “Hello, Hog.” The Monster grunted mistrustfully. It didn’t know what to make of the Witch, especially since her original welcome had been anything but friendly. She also wasn’t easy prey. She had a habit of disappearing into smoke and materializing back again someplace else whenever Hog had tried to grab at her, deeming her an intruder. It had just served to tire him out, and also Hayseed had scolded him for trying to hunt the Witch, but just because Hog wasn’t allowed to attack her, didn’t mean he’d have to like her. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here because of you.” She stretched her arms over her head, dangling long legs clad in black, torn leggings from the gargoyle. She closed her eyes as she took a deep, luxurious breath of cold air smelling of bonfires and autumn mist. “I hope your master has finished his gift to me. It’s a beautiful day, and it’s going to be a perfect night for -”

“Are you going to come in, or are you just bothering my assistants?” the Doctor’s cool voice interrupted her musings. He smelled like a mortuary, frankly, carelessly wiping his dirty hand in his lab coat. That intrigued Hog, it always did, making him bend down to sniff at the man - as if he could guess what their creator was building just by smelling it on him. The Doctor distractedly patted a chubby cheek, his pale face flushing a bright pink that had the Witch roll her eyes. 

His _’assistans’_ , she thought, barely repressing the urge to shake her head. As of there still was any reason for them to lie to each other in those matters. Try lovers instead, or boyfriends, or husbands. But she wasn’t going to argue with the Doctor. Tonight was, in fact, very much not about Junkenstein for a change. 

“Is she ready?” the Witch asked, a tremble of anticipation breaking her melodious voice. 

“As ready as she’s going to be. I don’t like to brag -” The Witch scoffed. “But I’ve quite outdone myself, considering all you could give me was a rough description. Come.” He beckoned her inside, leaving first with Hog at his heels. For all her doubts, the Witch had to admit the beast was uniquely attached to its maker, a feat she had considered to be impossible. She hoped so much it would work a second time… 

Hayseed waited up for her, offering her a hand to climb off the gargoyle which she didn’t technically need but took all the same. The Scarecrow was just more proof that as much as she tended to disagree with Junkenstein and his egomania, he was not a bad person at heart. Hayseed looked happier and more content every time she visited him, even more so since Hog had joined them. Now, during the season of _samhain_ , where all creatures walking the thin line between life and death were at their strongest, the Scarecrow practically radiated with an energy so warm it made her want to curl into it like a cat to the oven heat. He was healthy and well cared for and that made her indescribably happy. Hayseed deserved nothing less. 

They caught up with the Doctor and his Monster at the top of the stairs leading down into the dungeon, the man’s coaxing and prodding apparently doing nothing to get his companion to follow him. The Witch couldn’t really blame Hog for refusing. It had been her most scalding critique for the Doctor’s procedure in regard of his unorthodox creation. That was no way to bring someone into life, not that violently, and she couldn’t imagine the terror the Monster would have unleashed in its panic and wrath had it not been for Hayseed and his loyal sense of protectiveness. 

Junkenstein tried to reason with Hog, emphasizing again and again that there was _nothing_ waiting to hurt him. It wasn’t even about him, there would be no machines, no cables, no tubes, not for Hog anyway -

The Witch interrupted them by carefully placing her hand on a bulging arm, causing the Monster to flinch and huff in irritation. “No touch!” it insisted with its deep, booming voice it used so sparsely, and the Witch pointedly took her hand away, raising it palm up to show that she was listening to the Monster’s wishes. 

“I’m sorry. Please come with us, Hog, we’ll need your help.” Her gentle, pleading tone made the Monster relax a bit. Obviously it liked the idea that they needed him to help out. Still, the dark eyes stayed wary as they looked down the steep descent. 

It took Hayseed’s playful nudge, that seemed to say ‘get over yourself’ and the soothing hum from underneath the burlap covering the Scarecrow’s face, to finally make Hog move. Even then, he stayed a bit behind, as if ready to bolt at any second. The Witch hoped that was all he’d do if something in the dungeons did spook him after all. 

The chill in the lab ran bone-deep immediately; ideal conditions for the Doctor to keep his product as fresh as possible. A bright lamp shone on the linen-covered body on the table, and the Witch felt her mouth go dry. She could make out the soft curves of the thin shape underneath the cloth, and she stepped up to it slowly, carefully tracing the line of an arm, the slope of a shoulder…

“Are you ready to take a look?” the Doctor asked, reaching for the hem and waiting for her response. Suddenly the Witch felt overwhelmed. How long had it been…? A hundred years? More? She couldn’t tell. Time turned to sand between immortal fingers, a steady, meaningless trickle of months and years and centuries. Before Junkenstein’s successful experiment, she hadn’t even thought it possible, and yet here she was. About to see the face of her lover once more, the vessel Junkenstein had built to house her spirit the Witch would bring back. In her fantasy, she had lived through this moment again and again, making up every scenario she could think of. But now it was _real_. Now it was flesh beneath her hands, flesh just waiting to be brought to life, to pulse with blood, to warm skin, to make lips move and eyes shine - 

Finally, she nodded, blond curls bobbing with the movement. In the dramatic gesture she had expected from the Doctor, Junkenstein pulled off the linen, and the Witch’s blue eyes filled with tears. “She looks so much like her…,” she whispered, as her gaze traveled down the creature’s body lovingly. The same sharp, fine-boned face, a tall, thin body, fire red hair, and barely a hint of soft, womanly curves under the simple gown she was dressed in. The seams that held the vaguely differently colored patches of skin together were delicate and precise, done with so much care she felt a sudden urge of affection for the Doctor and the effort he had put into her gift. 

It resembled her so much. Even the differences blurred well into the Witch’s memories, and she smiled through her tears as she gently stroked a cheek that was still grey and cold - for now. Maybe her nose hadn’t been quite that pointy, and her hair had certainly been shorter. But it was still her. It was still Moira, and it would be Moira again soon. 

“I hope those are happy tears,” the Doctor said. “I tried to make her as close to your description as I could, seeing as I had _way too little time_ -”

“She’s wonderful,” the Witch replied, not even acknowledging the edge of complaint in his voice. “You really are an artist. Well… of sorts.”

Junkenstein spontaneously grew ten centimeters at her praise. “Then let’s get started. I don’t suppose you bring her to life just by staring at her.”

The Witch smiled her enigmatic smile, shaking her head. She turned to look over her shoulder. “Hog, can you carry her? I need to get her outside.” Faced with another creature on the very table he had first reached consciousness, curiosity finally won over Hog’s apprehension. For his size, he showed exceptional care in picking up the lifeless body (‘the head, the head, be careful with the head!’ the Doctor chimed in nervously), cradling his sister in his big arms, waiting for further instructions. Hayseed made sure her head rested safely against his chest, shutting up the Doctor’s babbling. 

-

Darkness had crept upon them by the time they left the castle in what had to be the weirdest procession of creatures imaginable. Their feet parted thick fog, and barely halfway into the woods the Doctor was already complaining about the dewy grass getting his legs wet, and how it would turn his prostheses to rust. 

“Please enlighten me, why couldn’t we do this inside? You know, where it’s at least dry?” Hayseed giggled at his whiny tone. For someone who didn’t mind sticking up to his shoulders in guts and organs, the Doctor sure was prickly about being subjected to the constant annoyance that was nature. 

“I don’t have the necessary strength in your dungeons. I need the moon and the air. And water,” the Witch explained patiently. 

“You didn’t need all that for Hayseed.” He sounded sceptical, and now the Witch sighed. 

“That was different. Hayseed -” She looked out for the Scarecrow, that was hopping a few steps in front of them now to lead the way. Apparently he knew exactly where the Witch needed to be. “He wasn’t really dead. I mean… he was. His brain was, so he wasn’t _really_... it’s just different. Bringing Hayseed back was like pulling someone back who’s only halfway through a door. But Moira… Moira went through the door and then it locked behind her. It’s different, and I can’t do it in your dungeon.”

If the Doctor finally shut up because that explanation satisfied him, or because he heard the Witch choking on her words for a second, she couldn’t tell. She didn’t care, either. She didn’t want to listen to his doubts, it only made her anxious that maybe it wouldn’t work after all. That even if they could bring the creature to life, it would not be her. Not her Moira, the clever woman with the smart tongue and a questioning mind and a fierce sense of indepence. The woman who had decided that she was going to be a healer instead of a housewife, going as far as pretending to be a man for most of her adult life to be granted access to education and training, laughing at all the blind people who only ever saw what they wanted to see as she slipped between the cracks of their rules. She had been a man by day, an excellent medic and highly respected member of her community, and a woman by night, soft and open in a way she never was in pants and an uptight coat. In turn, the Witch had been Mercy, the nurse, one of so many lives she had lived, and she had loved both Moiras so fiercely it still burned her. Please, she thought, it just had to work…

They reached a natural clearing in the woods after a steep walk through bushes and thicket, with the Doctor wisely staying behind the Monster to use the trampled down path it left in its wake. The full moon and the dim light from the Witch’s staff were the only illumination, but both Hayseed and the Monster seemed to be doing just fine in the dark. The Doctor mainly followed Hog’s heavy breathing sounds.

“Place her here,” the Witch told Hog, pointing to the bank of the stream. Even after he had put her down, the Monster stayed next to the lifeless body, examining her curiously and paying no mind to the Witch who lit a fire behind him. Hayseed happily lent her a helping hand, stirring it with a stick while the Witch crumbled herbs in the flames, muttering under her breath as the smoke turned dark and thick, making the Doctor’s eyes water. 

The fire veiled them all in black, dancing shadows, making even the Witch appear someone less human than she usually looked. If he hadn’t felt the warmth on his skin and his eyes burning up, Junkenstein would have believed himself to be in some sort of nightmare. As the only human between the immortal and the undead, he suddenly felt weirdly outnumbered, and he instinctively pressed himself closer against the Monster, trying to find some comfort in the rise and fall of its body with every breath it took. Being here, watching the Witch wake whatever spirits and powers she needed to fulfill her desires, made it so much more obvious how different she was from them, how different Hayseed was from them too, for having been reborn through her magic. This didn’t frighten him. Quite the contrary, he had rarely seen the Scarecrow look this relaxed and confident. The flickering shadows fleetingly kissed his cheeks and tickled his stuffed body, and the Witch’s eyes burned brightly with joy and mirth as she watched him through the flames. 

Hog was far from being a human, too, but this was as strange to him as it was to Junkenstein, and the Doctor could see his frown deepen with every passing minute. He swatted at a curl of smoke that almost seemed to form a physical shape in front of them, grunting in growing distress. 

Finally the Witch seemed satisfied with her fire, and turned her attention to her still lifeless companion. From her bustier she pulled forth a small charm that Junkenstein only recognized as interwoven strands of hair on the second glance. The Witch knelt next to the corpse, carefully placing the charm between folded hands, wrapping twigs of myrtle and sage around slim wrists and fingers, softly stroking dead flesh. 

“It’s time,” she whispered. Something about the magic fire made her eyes look black instead of blue when she lifted her gaze up to the Doctor. “You have made her a wonderful body, I thank you for that. But you should leave now. It is not… healthy for one of your kind to be so close to the spirits.” There was nothing soothing in her smile, and Junkenstein didn’t even complain that he had made his way all the way into the forest only to be sent away now, because, well, his instincts had been screaming to run ever since the first flames had sparked. “Take your monster with you. He’s not supposed to walk on this side of the world, and they know it.”

When Junkenstein pulled at Hog’s big hand, the Monster planted its feet more firmly into the ground. “No,” it grunted, frowning at his dead sister-creature on the ground, between flames and water and wrapped in spicy smelling leaves. It was a lot different from cables and tubes and syringes, but he still mistrusted it, not grasping how the Witch could hope to revive anyone like that. “You make pain,” he told the Witch, an outright accusation rather than a question, and Junkenstein still felt the twinge of guilt in his stomach. Hog did not usually show a lot of care for the well-being of anyone else besides his maker and sometimes Hayseed, though Hayseed could fend for himself if need be. The amount of compassion he obviously held for the Witch’s companion was surprising. 

The Witch just smiled, shaking her head. “It will not hurt her. Magic doesn’t hurt like science does. Ask Hayseed if you don’t believe me.” The Scarecrow nodded very enthusiastically, rustling with every movement. Sometimes she wanted to be angry at Junkenstein for not letting her help with his monster; she could have spared him all that pain and fear. But she also knew that she would have never given in to a request as ludicrous as to revive what was essentially a pieced together zombie. Hog had, however, turned out to be much more than a zombie. He was smart in his own way, learning every day, and he was _feeling_. For his maker, for his distant brother under straw and rags, for his sister who had yet to draw her first breath. 

“No pain?” Hog rumbled, his rattling breath making every uttered word sound exhausting, and Hayseed confidently shook his head. Truth be told, the Scarecrow barely remembered anything at all about its awakening, but that meant it couldn’t have been nearly as traumatic as it had been for the Monster. Finally, Hog released a deep breath. 

“Bring your master away now. It’s not safe here for you much longer.”, she reminded him gently. The Monster frowned, looking over to Hayseed again who squatted in front of the fire, warming his blackened hand. 

“Hayseed?” the Monster grunted, and the Scarecrow cocked its head in that unsettling manner that made his neck look broken. Underneath the jute bag, Hayseed was just giggling quietly in anticipation. 

“He’ll stay,” the Witch answered for him. “You never know when you need a helping hand, right?”

“Come on. We’ve done our part, they’ll be fine without us now,” the Doctor urged his Monster on, though he did not like any of this. It was beyond ironic how often _he_ had been accused of magic and witchcraft many a time himself by those completely oblivious to the fact that there was no one more upset by the Witch and her skills than Junkenstein himself. Sure, science was messy and science hurt. It was slow sometimes and occasionally the results ran off in directions he hadn't anticipated, but it could be studied, controlled, understood. The Witch had powers far beyond what any human could grasp, and Junkenstein didn’t like being confronted with the limits of his intellectual comprehension. 

Hog obeyed only reluctantly, and only after Hayseed had given his big hand a gentle squeeze that seemed to say _’I’ll be fine, don’t worry’_. The Monster scooped up the Doctor to spare him the exhausting march back through the thicket and grass wet from fog. No sooner that they had turned their backs to the forest, the Witch’s melodious voice grew from gentle muttering to singing - a wailing, slightly off-key singing at that - and then the shadows grew thicker, blacker, and Junkenstein could swear they _answered_ her -

It was pure instinct that drove Hog away from it faster, the Doctor’s hands clutching at his skin, every hair on the back on his neck standing on end. 

Instead of letting the tiny human go when the heavy wooden gate to the castle finally closed behind them once again, Hog retreated to the salon where the fire was just burning down. He never let go of the Doctor, and he didn’t need to - one hand was more than enough to carry him safely. With the other he could feed logs to the dying flames. Only then did Hog settle down on a shabby couch. The Doctor made no move to climb off of him, content with the proximity and the sense of protection that radiated from his companion. “I really hate Hallow’s Eve,” the man sighed, tired and weary, still half worried about Hayseed in the company of the Witch and her dead bride and the shadows creeping from the otherworld into theirs, and half relieved to not be stuck with them in the forest. 

“Let’s read something, it’ll help pass the time,” Junkenstein suggested, and let Hog pick one of the books stacked up on the side table. Some were books for children, old fables and tales, written in big letters and easy words. He’d use them to practice with Hog. Tonight the Monster did not seem inclined to work on his speech though, instead handing the Doctor a book thick enough to beat a human to death with, filled with such tiny scribblings Junkenstein had to adjust his glasses on his long nose to decipher them. 

They read about an ancient historic people, with the Doctor interrupting every few sentences to offer an explanation or further description, until his eyes were watering from the painful strain. The Monster snored softly by then, wrapped and folded around the skinny human, who only had to let the book drop to the floor and settle a bit more comfortably against the curve of Hog’s chest, to doze off himself. 

-

As dawn arrived, so did Hayseed. And the Witch. And her bride. While Hayseed latched onto the Doctor and the Monster as if he had been gone for an entire year, the newly-born couple only had eyes for each other, and Junkenstein had never seen the Witch blush so fiercely as when Moira, wrapped in silence still, gently took her hand to kiss slim fingers in a manner that was so loaded with suggestion and promise, the Doctor almost felt obligated to offer them one of his spare rooms. 

“She’s perfect,” the Witch whispered, so smitten by her companion that she laughed like a little girl, beaming with joy when she met Moira’s mismatched eyes. Apparently it was no reason for complaint that the Doctor had been forced to give her two different colored eyes - courtesy of the Monster, who popped them in his mouth like berries, leaving the Doctor with a very small available selection. “So… do you think she’s alright? She’s not talking yet, and -”

“She’s fine,” the Doctor said, as if he really knew when a hybrid from messy, scientific handiwork and outright necromancy was able to be considered fine, but Moira looked as well as she was going to get. “Takes a bit of time, with the talking. I’m sure you’ll find something to do to keep you busy in the meantime,” he suggested dryly, rolling his eyes when the Witch blushed even more if that was at all possible. “The real question is: Is _he_ alright?”

Junkenstein pointed to Hayseed, who simply clung to the Monster’s back like a cape, using only his hands to stick to the broad shoulders, legs dangling limpy a few centimeters above the ground. He was whining like a kitten, irritating the Monster, who awkwardly tried to reach behind its own head to pat the Scarecrow. 

The Witch laughed. “Time passes slowly in the other realms. He missed you both, is all.” Finally, she let go of Moira for a second, and pulled the Doctor in a tight hug that took the man by complete surprise - or otherwise he would have pulled away on time. He really wasn’t a hugger, at least not with people, or witches at that, but the gesture seemed to be heartfelt and needed and so he stiffly patted her slim back. “Thank you so much, Jamison. You have no idea…- I… I never thought…” 

Her voice was trembling again, and the Doctor just scoffed. “It’s fine, I - My pleasure. Take good care of her, I hope you’ll be very happy,” he mumbled through the embarrassment of feeling a bit emotional himself now. 

He had never considered the Witch a friend, and he assumed that had been mutual, but, well, they shared something now that made it impossible to not be at least something similar. An odd assortment of friends he had, Junkenstein thought, but who was he to complain.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> The Doctor will now take commissions for custom made husbands and wives, please inquire in the comment section!
> 
> You can also come hang out at my [tumblr](https://piggyofoz.tumblr.com/)! (NSFW version [here](https://piggyofoz-nsfw.tumblr.com/).)  
> Love you all, see you around!


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